The Hogwarts Inquisition
by Slide
Summary: Insanity breaks out in Hogwarts following the Weasley twins' departure from Umbridge's regime, and Blaise Zabini reflects on the role his House has to play in the school's new atmosphere.


**No One Expects the Hogwarts Inquisition!**

Blaise Zabini had suspected it for a very long time, but only today had it been confirmed for him. The whole of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was insane. Utterly, irrevocably, insane. And in a matter of a few very short hours it had suddenly escalated from being slightly eccentric and crazy to being several miles over the madness horizon and still accelerating. He had assumed the day of this sort of extreme insanity would come sooner, but not so suddenly and unexpectedly. Yesterday, there had merely been the slight oddness that constantly surrounded the school, if accompanied by a touch more oppression than usual. Today, raging maniacs rampaged through the halls, all whispering and buzzing with the excitement those two crazy red-haired twins had caused with their departure.

Some of his housemates – the loudest ones, the ones who were perpetually convinced that they were always to be utterly correct and nobody dared point out that they were wrong in case the loonies turned on them – had for years been declaring that 'things would change' when, at last, Dumbledore was ejected from the position of Headmaster. Oh, they had changed. A new form of law and order within Hogwarts had suddenly shifted, and now the whole school had been turned upside down. Small quirks, little nuances which one would usually enjoy were now exaggerated tenfold, and it was starting to get slightly irksome.

Blaise sauntered out of the Great Hall, idly kicking a fallen goblet around in front of him as Doug Warrington, a member of the fairly newly formed 'Inquisitorial Squad' – honestly, how pretentious could you get? – docked points from three Ravenclaw fourth-years for whistling. As Warrington walked off, Blaise kicked the goblet at him – he wasn't sure why; the bulky Quidditch player just seemed like a good target.

It flew through the air and hit Warrington on the back of the knee, making his right leg buckle a little. Warrington staggered, grabbing the nearest suit of armour to stop himself from falling. The three Ravenclaws burst out laughing as Warrington regained his balance and whirled around to face them all, glaring in a search for his assailant.

His eyes met Blaise's, and Blaise didn't even try – or consider trying – to look innocent. There was a long moment as the cogs in Warrington's head obviously ticked over, knowing Blaise to be in his house and knowing Blaise had kicked that goblet. Then he turned to the Ravenclaws and deducted points for their sniggering.

Blaise snorted with disgust and strode away from the Great Hall as more of the students filtered out of it, leaving dinner behind. He tried not to look, but the large hourglasses showing the house points were almost impossible to miss as he passed them. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff were all languishing with hardly any gems left in their glasses as the emeralds remained high in the fourth hourglass. For the first time ever, Blaise felt like kicking that hourglass.

For the first time ever, he felt ashamed of being a Slytherin.

This was not a normal state of affairs. Though he recognised that there were a few complete wankers in his house who were dominant enough to be seen as the stereotypical Slytherins by the rest of the school, within the house and out of sight of others at Hogwarts it was not so. Within the house, the idiots mostly left the rest to their own devices, only sticking their noses in when they thought their contemporaries were acting in an 'un-Slytherin' sort of way and ruining their… sterling… reputation.

The bullies and the sycophants marched around the school, treating it like their own personal playground and preaching the greatness and superiority of Slytherin house. The rest just gritted their teeth, rolled their eyes, and got on with it. Those who spoke out against the idiotic ones tended to get practically excommunicated, and thus it didn't happen very often. No, it was made sure that the school saw Slytherin house as the house of the evil and stupid, and the evil and stupid in the house made sure that those who were fairly neutral and had a few brain cells never raised their heads enough to change that impression. The popular Slytherins were insulting, the prefects were unfair, the Quidditch players were cheaters, and, as far as Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were concerned, that was Slytherin house. Who, really, would want to get to know the people standing behind those immense idiots, the people who just kept their mouths shut and said nothing as the bullies acted like bastards?

Blaise had, until now, been proud of his house despite this. They got done what they needed to, and didn't give a crap about what people thought of them. The few good prefects – like Cole and Grey in the sixth year, or Everson from a few years ago – did their jobs correctly, and although they had a hard time of commanding respect from the bullies, and although the rest of the school had treated them like dirt, and jumped to conclusions, and prejudged them… they still did their jobs. Bloody shitty pay-off, in Blaise's opinion. But that didn't matter, because they were _Slytherins_, and they weren't in it to be liked – they were there to do what they set out to do, and to hell with the popularity contests.

It had just gone far too far now. At the beginning of the year, the Sorting Hat had sung some crazy song about needing unity in the school – or so Nott had told him; Blaise hadn't been paying attention – and in some ways, that had been achieved. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were all _very _united… against Slytherin.

Blaise gave in and kicked the fourth, twinkling green hourglass. Pain flared up in his foot, but he wasn't sure he cared. The hourglass didn't even move, and the emeralds seemed to somehow flash brighter in the torchlight, which served only to aggravate him more.

"And what do you think you're doing, Zabini?"

Malfoy. Great. Just what he needed when he was embarking on a trip of self-loathing. Someone to make him feel even worse about himself – and the annoying thing about Malfoy was that he didn't even _try _when it came to irritating Blaise; he just did it naturally.

_I'm imagining that the hourglass is your head, Malfoy, _Blaise thought. "Seeing if kicking the hourglass will make more points come into it, Draco" he lied instead without even bothering to think about it. He was even shocked at how terrible this excuse was, and how little he cared about that. He had always been convinced that unbelievable lies worked very well if you stuck to them, because something outrageous would have to be the truth, and so he was very apt at talking bullshit without even thinking about it, or batting an eyelid. But that hadn't even been an excuse. It was just insane garbling.

He'd finally been sucked into the madhouse.

Malfoy blinked, his smug and superior expression faltering for a little as he obviously considered the oddness of Blaise's reply, but he didn't comment on it. "Zabini, right now you just have to _breathe _in the right way and a member of the highly regarded Inquisitorial Squad will give you points. So for your productive and loyal outlook, I give ten points to Slytherin." Emeralds fell into the hourglass, and Malfoy looked at Blaise as if to say 'see?'

_You're disgusting_, Blaise wanted to reply, but wisely held his tongue. _Why the hell didn't we just all pinpoint you as a stupid prick the moment you turned up in Slytherin? Why did we simper and nod and smile as you paraded around with your trained baboons as if you were our saviour and we the adoring inferiors who needed to be lifted from our lowly existences by you?_

"Very cool," he said instead, and mentally kicked himself. _On the other hand, I'm just as disgusting as him_.

"You should join the Inquisitorial Squad, Zabini. We always need people who have the right… views taking part. This school is being fixed," Malfoy declared, sounding as if he was ranting a little bit as he threw an arm over Blaise's shoulder – no mean feat, considering that Blaise had a good four inches of height on him – and surveyed the hourglasses smugly. "Changes are coming, Zabini, and those who bring them about will be remembered for… generations to come. You should get a piece of that glory."

_Where are your two minions, Malfoy? I wouldn't have thought you'd dare roam the corridors without them, considering your new-found popularity_. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle, Draco? Busy bringing about these changes of yours?" Blaise asked, forcing a highly unconvincing smile onto his face.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice Blaise's limited and false enthusiasm. "They're around. I told them to go and torment some Gryffindor Mudbloods for a bit. They're probably enjoying themselves; I should leave them to it." He patted Blaise on the back cheerfully. "Think about it, Zabini… you've always kept yourself to yourself in the past, and you really shouldn't have to. You could do so much! And enjoy yourself at the same time."

_Yes, I bet you love your work, you slimy little git. And get your arm off me; I only cleaned these robes yesterday._ "I thought it was meant to be for the greater good of Hogwarts?" Blaise said, knowing the accusing tone in his voice he couldn't keep out would be taken as wry sarcasm, as almost everything he said was.

"Doesn't mean we can't take pride in what we do, Zabini," Malfoy chuckled as a pair of Hufflepuff boys approached, laughing together. "You! Ten points from Hufflepuff for improper behaviour and laughing at a member of the Inquisitorial Squad."

The Hufflepuffs came to a halt, looking a bit annoyed but not as indignant as Blaise had seen other students acting today. Evidently this was not their first run-in with the Inquisitorial Squad. "We weren't laughing at you," one of them protested weakly.

_You should have been. I would have… you know, if the Inquisitorial Squad were Gryffindors and ran around being self-righteous all the time_. "Well sod off, then," Blaise instructed them, his patience wearing thin. He wasn't above being randomly abusive to other students (the main distinction between his abuse and the abuse of the idiot-Slytherins was that Blaise wouldn't discriminate. The idiots would only abuse key people from other houses, whereas Blaise had no problems insulting anyone for any reason).

One of the Hufflepuff boys raised an eyebrow, looking exceptionally worn and irritated. "Why the hell should we?" he said, placing his hands on his hips and glaring at the two boys. Blaise shifted away from Malfoy, not wanting to have anything more to do with this ridiculous situation than he already did.

Malfoy's nostrils flared, and he drew himself up to his full, fairly inconsequential height. "Like I said, I am a member of the Inquisition! Twenty points from Hufflepuff!" Gems fell from the Hufflepuff hourglass, but the two boys didn't seem particularly perturbed. Malfoy waggled his eyebrows. "Bet you didn't expect _that_, Mudbloods, did you?"

Blaise wondered for a moment how he knew the two were Muggle-born, but quickly realised that Malfoy probably kept a register somewhere full of 'acceptable' people within Hogwarts. He had a slight inkling the list would be very short.

Instead of being as shocked as Malfoy obviously expected them to be, however, one of the Hufflepuffs guffawed and turned to his friend, obviously trying to clamp down on laughter that was threatening to erupt enough so that he could speak. "The Hogwarts Inquisition?" he sniggered.

His friend's eyes grew wide, and he let out a bark of a chuckle. "_No one _expects the Hogwarts Inquisition!" he declared in an odd, dramatic voice, and the two of them exploded into laughter almost instantaneously, leaning against each other for support, tears streaming down their faces as they staggered off, finding it hard to walk with that much laughter paralysing them.

Blaise and Malfoy watched them go, wearing similar expressions of confusion, Malfoy obviously too stunned to think about taking more points off them. "Damn crazy Muggle-borns," Blaise mumbled, blinking, then glanced at Malfoy. "I appreciate the offer, Draco, but I'll pass if it means having to deal with insane people like that." 

Malfoy looked a little put-out. "If you insist, Zabini. Ask Nott if he's up for it, mind; he's got the right sort of views about these things, and we need all the good people we can get to inflict order on this madhouse." He sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking around the Entrance Hall. "Dumbledore really did drive this place to ruin."

Blaise was fairly sure that Nott wouldn't be too enthusiastic about the idea, but knew why Malfoy was asking. Not many people knew that Theodore Nott's father had once been a Death Eater, long ago – and, if the latest rumours were true about You-Know-Who's return, he was probably at it again. Blaise, as technically Nott's best friend, knew, as did Malfoy – because Lucius Malfoy probably taught Augustus Nott everything he knew. The fact that Nott had been fairly horrified about the whole thing when he'd told Blaise, went along with Malfoy because he was scared of him, and wasn't intimidating enough to bully even a Hufflepuff first-year, all made it quite clear to Blaise that Nott wasn't his father.

"Uh… yeah. Look, Draco, I've got a Potions essay to do for tomorrow, so I'll see you later, okay?" Blaise declared in a rush, and when Malfoy nodded idly, he headed away down the corridors and towards the Slytherin Common Room.

The aforementioned scrawny shape of Theodore Nott was seated at one of the tables in the common room when Blaise sauntered in, ignoring the extra noise many of the Slytherins were making in what was probably a celebration of Umbridge's new law and order. Blaise again felt a little sick.

"This place," he declared, for once making a note to keep his voice down as he sat opposite Nott, "has now officially gone to the Nifflers. Though you know I've said for ages that it's been a long day coming." He paused, rolling his eyes and lounging back in that slightly artful way of his in the armchair. "I just didn't expect…"

"…it to be this day?" Nott asked, running a hand through his messy dark hair and tapping his quill nervously against the parchment. Although Theodore Nott wasn't usually the calmest of people in Slytherin house, he somehow seemed even more jumpy, all of a sudden.

"Something like that." Blaise paused, loosening his tie so that he could breathe a bit. He'd seen members of the Inquisitorial Squad rampaging around and deducting points for untidy appearances, and thought he might as well make the most of the immunity being in Slytherin gave him. "Oh, and Ted – Malfoy told me to let you know that he'd welcome you into the Inquisitorial Squad."

Nott dropped his quill and looked at Blaise with slight fear in his eyes, and Blaise knew he had to have shaken his good acquaintance quite a bit for him to not react to being called 'Ted', which Blaise knew he hated.

"M-Malfoy said that?" he stammered. "He wants me in the Squad?"

Blaise blinked. "Yeah. Get a grip, Nott, it's not like he asked for your hand in marriage. He just thinks that you're good Slytherin Idiot material, that's all. You know what Malfoy's like," he said dismissively, idly draping one leg over the armrest and letting his head loll back as he relaxed in the chair.

"Shut up, Zabini," Nott said, but without much venom or even much conviction as he again ran his hands nervously through his hair. "God, what do I say to him? I don't want to march around with those prats lording it over the rest of the school!"

A few members of the Inquisitorial Squad who were nearby obviously overheard him, because they turned and glared at the pair. Blaise raised a hand to wave at them cheerfully, then looked back at Nott. "Relax. Just tell him you're not interested. I did."

Nott gnawed at a fingernail. "And what'd he say?"

"He was cool about it. Merlin! Breathe, mate," Blaise exclaimed, reaching over to clap him on the shoulder.

Nott jumped again, hurriedly packing his things away. "I need to think up a good excuse," he stammered, fidgeting in his seat for a minute before standing, grabbing his bag and hurrying off into the dormitory.

Blaise rolled his eyes and leant back in his chair, feeling the effort and tension of the day ebb out of him, along with a bit of the worry. He wasn't going to lose sleep over Nott's panicking, as he did it every single day over the smallest of things.

They were, everyone else presumed, best friends, and whilst this was slightly correct, it was also a bit misleading. 'Friends' was a bit of an exaggeration, but they probably knew each other better than anyone else in the school, and spent more time with each other than with anyone else. Blaise would have called them 'good acquaintances' – he had a tendency to keep himself to himself, and Nott could easily find a place next to the sycophants surrounding Malfoy if he so wished, even though he would afterwards list the many reasons why he found Malfoy's minions to be contemptible. Blaise himself didn't hesitate to speak his mind and call them stupid when the inclination hit him, but the sarcastic and deprecating way he dealt with most things meant that he wasn't generally taken seriously by the more idiotic members of Slytherin house. And whilst that in itself wasn't his fault, he did regularly kick himself for never quite daring to correct them.

He supposed the people like him in Slytherin were just as much to blame for Slytherin's reputation as the people who enforced that reputation were. After all, they rolled their eyes, thought the bullies and their sycophants stupid, but went on with what they were doing and didn't challenge anyone on it. And if someone did challenge a bully, nobody would stand up to join them, and they'd usually watch the braver members of Slytherin house receive enough of a verbal or physical bashing that they wouldn't stand up to the bullies again.

The key advantage the members of Slytherin the rest of the house wished didn't exist had was that they were united. They joined together in their efforts, creating a front for the rest of their house and the other houses alike to bounce harmlessly off. The newfound unity of the other houses did mean that Slytherin could expect to be taken down a peg or two in the near future – once this Inquisitorial Squad rubbish had blown over – and the fact that the rest of the school wouldn't discriminate between the bullying Slytherins and the quiet Slytherins would merely widen the rift within Hogwarts.

It really wasn't surprising that this rift was here, Blaise mused as he finally rooted around his bag for parchment and quill – he hadn't been lying to Malfoy about the Potions essay. But he could remember his first day, the day of the Sorting, when he had been the last one in the year to put on the Hat and had been told to go to Slytherin. Some people had _hissed_. He'd only been eleven sodding years old, had only just arrived at Hogwarts, and because of what some stupid bloody moth-eaten hat had said, people – mostly people from the high and mighty, self-righteous, bloody _arrogant _Gryffindor table – had damn well _hissed _at him! And they wondered why Slytherin resented the rest of the school, they wondered why the pupils of Slytherin kept to themselves and only emerged to throw abuse at others, they _wondered _why all of Slytherin house were bastards.

Because they weren't all bastards. Just those that were had mostly been driven to it by the prejudices of the rest of the school, and those that weren't were labelled as bastards anyway, because they wore the silver and green of the serpent.

Blaise sighed as he pulled out his Potions text book and looked up the entry for wormwood. He'd need to get this done before he could go and get all self-righteous about the situation. Slytherins weren't supposed to have the moral high ground, after all. They were meant to be lowly cheaters, and all that crap –

Adrian Pucey burst into the common room on that note, huffing and puffing and looking as if he'd just run from one side of the school to the next. Blaise found himself feeling sorry he hadn't keeled over on the way – and indeed, the gangly Pucey looked as if any more physical exertion might finish him off.

"Dungbombs!" he exclaimed, panting as he waved at the members of the Inquisitorial Squad in the common room. "On the second floor! Gryffindor third years!" Then he collapsed on the nearest couch, huffing and puffing terribly to get his breath back.

The members of the Squad looked at each other, stunned, before hurrying out the door in a rush, pushing and shoving to be the first to get there and doubtless put the Gryffindors in their place.

Blaise looked from them to his essay, and put the quill down firmly, standing up and falling into line after them. Slytherins were thought to all be as bad as each other by the rest of the school, thought to be above reproach by the Inquisitorial Squad. Hell, he could get away with taking them down a few pegs, and he was sure a few others in the house would take glee in joining him in that. It wasn't as if anyone would expect a Slytherin to be something other than a complete bastard, after all.


End file.
